


Like a deer in headlights

by IcedLemonade



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: April Fools' Day, Bruce Wayne Being an Idiot, Clark is a troll, Humor, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcedLemonade/pseuds/IcedLemonade
Summary: Bruce is the master of darkness and stealth, until he sees a certain kryptonian...Alternatively titled: why Batman absolutely despises April
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 101





	Like a deer in headlights

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by real life events, enjoy.

Bruce swung down from his second-favourite gargoyle in Gotham, and aimed for the harbour at the far end of the horizon. A few minutes before, Superman has called for help, something about Lex Luthor spotted with kryptonite shipments near Gotham harbour.

He cursed Luthor and reloaded his grapple, firing it at an adjacent building. When will he ever stop hoarding kryptonite? That thing is radioactive, after all. Bruce silently wished that Luthor's infatuation with killing Superman will end up with him developing fatal cancer. One less problem for the world.

He reached the harbourfront and gazed up at the moonless sky. Clark should be here any minute.

Speak of the devil, Clark popped up from behind the tower just as his thoughts began to fade, floating down slowly as if he wasn't at all concerned about at least several pounds of kryptonite sitting just a few metres away. "Hey B!" He greeted cheerfully. "Glad you could make it."

Bruce gave a curt nod in response, and cut straight to business. "What do we know here?"

"Well, not much, except that Luthor has smuggled some K to the warehouse over there." Clark motioned towards the old warehouse next to the harbour. "We should probably destroy it."

Bruce sighed. What's with all the crime happening in old, abandoned warehouses? "Alright, lead the way."

"You know, it'll be faster if I carry you-"

"No."

"Okay."

The pair made their way over to the warehouse. Clark was just about to discuss a plan when Bruce leapt onto the roof and jumped in, completely ignoring his presence. Sighing, he followed, though lacking the usual caution he'd practised when facing Luthor.

The warehouse seemed abandoned. Clark floated down next to Bruce. "What's wrong?" He asked innocently.

"It's normal. Too normal." Bruce narrowed his eyes, peering into the stretch of darkness. "Do you see anything?"

"No. Everything's probably lead-lined."

"Hm. Stay back, I'll take care of it." Bruce pushed him backwards, then strode forwards.

Just as he took the first step, the warehouse blazed to life. Lights as blinding as the Metropolis sun shone upon them, and from supposedly empty crates, dark figures began to emerge, slowly but surely.

"Shit, they were expecting us." Bruce whipped out two batarangs and turned to Clark. "Stay here, they may be carrying kryptonite. Don't do anything stupid."

Clark argued, but not too vehemently, which was a relief. The big blue boy scout always seemed to have the worst ideas when faced with kryptonite.

With a powerful leap, Bruce jumped from their vantage point, his cape spread out behind him in a giant shadow which sent most criminals scattering in fear. He eyed the crowd, which was slowly gathering below in a semi-circle, and decided to land right in front of them for maximum theatrical effect.

Mid-jump, he suddenly noticed that something was off. Instinctively, he turned his head sideways. Almost spluttered.

Clark was gliding next to him, a big goofy grin plastered on his perfect face. Bruce was about to push him back, to stop him from another near-fatal encounter with kryptonite, when his brain stopped completely, putting out the tiny ball of rage within. He couldn't help but stare, eyes fixed on the thousand-watt smile that could outshine the sun any day. And that crisp dark hair billowing in the wind, tousled in the most perfect way possible by the sea breeze... were they always that soft?

But those were nothing compared to his eyes, Bruce thought dumbly as he reached the highest point of his leap. Cornflower blue fringed with sapphire, with a touch of blue steel, shaded by fanned lashes. Their gazes met, and his eyes literally sparkled. Was it a kryptonian thing? Bruce made a mental note to research that later. At the moment, every neurone in his brain was focused on Clark, and escape was futile.

As if pulling a switch, those eyes dimmed, and the brilliant blue hue was replaced with a greyer shade. Clark slowed in his flight, and Bruce's head turned automatically back to trace him. He was no longer gliding, but floating in the air, a familiar expression on his face. It was the one when Bruce explained his potentially self-sacrificing act to him, or when he managed to light the whole kitchen on fire trying to boil some water.

Shit. Remembering that he was still airborne, he reached out his arms in a wave of panic, hoping to roll with the impact, but the ground was close. Too close.

Like an awkward duckling falling from its nest, Bruce smacked face-first into the ground, his arms doing little to cushion the impact. A sharp pain shot up his nose, and he knew instantaneously that a long, boring lecture was waiting for him back at the batcave. He skidded for a few metres, before finally braking to a stop in a very unintimidating pose, his ass jutted high up in the air.

Groaning slightly, he stood back up and attempted a glare, but its effect was dampened significantly by the blood now flowing freely down his nose. He took in the surrounding goons, some were staring with mouths wide open in disbelief, and some were trying very hard not to break into laughter.

He growled and readied the batarangs in his hand, when a sudden whisk of red and blue appeared. He squinted. All the goons were gone.

"Wha-" He rubbed his eyes. How did a dozen henchmen just disappear off the surface of the Earth?

"Whoa, are you alright, B? You fell quite a long way there..." Clark said, approaching him cautiously. His expression was a strange mix of horror and amusement.

Bruce ignored the contradiction and focused on the empty lot in front of him. "Did you do this?"

"I... yeah. They were very inexperienced." Clark shrugged, then suddenly remembered something. "Oh, and the kryptonite are safe."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Uh, the...sun?" Clark smiled hopefully.

"You took out all the goons, and made a trip to the sun in less than a second?"

"...Yeah."

Bruce didn't know what to make of this. He rubbed his face tiredly. "Let's go back first, we’ll discuss this later."

"Sure!" Clark replied quickly.

* * *

Arriving at the batcave, Bruce was for all intents and purposes to forget about the fight with Lex's henchmen. Clark, however, seemed very determined to keep the memory fresh, and would not stop nagging Bruce about why he'd face-planted right in front of a dozen goons.

"Clark, please stop asking, I don't want to talk about it..." Bruce sighed, taking an ice pack out of the fridge and holding it to his nose. "I slipped, that's all."

"Batman doesn't 'just slip'!" Clark said.

Bruce muttered unintelligibly through the ice pack.

"Bruce, please tell me. Whatever's stopping you from making that jump, we need to fix it! If it's your grappling hook, we upgrade it. If it's you boots, then, well... I've always told you that they were too tight."

"There's nothing wrong with my suit nor gadgets." Bruce said, putting down the ice pack with a sigh. This conversation is giving him a headache.

"Then tell me what's wrong." Clark looked right at him, and Bruce's brain almost froze again from the intensity of that gaze. Round puppy-dog eyes bore into his eyes, and he knew that he won't be able to resist them.

"Fine," He huffed, "It's your face."

"My face??" Clark gasped dramatically. "What's wrong with my face?"

"It's..." Bruce waved his hand around aimlessly as if he could magically pluck the right word out of thin air. "...annoying."

Clark pouted unhappily. "You think my face is annoying."

"It's..." Bruce groaned, rubbing his temples in an attempt to calm himself down. Why is explaining himself so damn hard? "You know what, it's not your face, it's... me."

"You?"

"Yes, me, Clark, so don't worry your... face about it." Bruce said, catching himself just in time before he said 'handsome'. The pause did not go unnoticed.

Clark looked at him strangely, the way he did when faced with an untruthful corporate CEO during an interview, or when Riddler was too busy explaining his grand scheme to notice that he'd included a bit too much information. He quirked a questioning eyebrow.

Bruce sighed. One of the downsides of having an investigative reporter as a boyfriend. "It's nothing, Clark. Something just got in my head, that's all." Bruce waved a dismissive hand.

Clark blanched. "You were mind controlled!"

"What? No! What makes you think tha-"

"Oh, my goodness, that explains it. Something definitely got into your head." Clark gripped Bruce by the shoulders and shook him. "B, look me in the eye, I need you to focus. Who did this?"

"What are you doing? I'm not mind controlled!" Bruce struggled uselessly against the iron clasp, then suddenly realised how close they were. He struggled even more.

"That's what every mind-controlled victim says." Clark murmured, his eyes roaming over Bruce's face in a calculating sweep.

"Let me go." Bruce gritted. One more second under that intense stare and he might just implode into a pile of pink goo. He tried again. "Let. Me. Go."

"Bruce, I know you're in there somewhere, fight it!" Clark shook him again, though a bit more violently than necessary. "Who was it?"

"Clark, you fucking idiot, you almost dislocated my neck..." Bruce growled, "And I'm not mind-controlled!"

Clark paid him no mind. "Was it Dr. Psycho?" He went quiet, contemplating. "Or Gorilla Grood, but isn't he in Arkham? Can he still do telepathy in jail? Doesn't he need that fancy helmet to do it? How does mind-controlling even work... Wait, how many villains capable of mind-control are there?"

"Too many." Bruce sighed, Clark was going on one of his rants again, where nothing but kryptonite or kissing could stop him. He was out of alternatives. Cursing Clark and the ineffable workings of the universe that brought them together, Bruce leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his lip, shutting him up. "There, proof that I'm not mind-controlled."

"Poison Ivy! She usually kisses her victims, so there's no reason as to why they won't kiss other people-"

"Clark..." Bruce sighed miserably and smacked his head on Clark's shoulder, rethinking all his life choices that had brought him to this very moment. "Stop it."

Clark stopped mid-rant and grinned, the kind of shit-eating grin that made Bruce want to punch it repeatedly with kryptonite until it resembles nothing less than a rugby ball. But he would never do that, because he loves him. Then everything clicked together.

"You..." For the first time, Batman was speechless. "You played me. All this time."

Clark cocked his head to the side, confused yet still trying not to laugh, a contradictory behaviour that Bruce should have picked up sooner. "What are you talking about?"

"This, all of this. You planned this, didn't you."

"Planned what? You'd have to be more specific." Clark face was slowly turning red from the effort from containing his laughter. "I planned a lot of things in my lifetime, including that baking fair at Smallville, is that what you're interested in?"

"Clark."

"Not interested in baking then. What about horse appreciation day at my high school?" Clark snickered.

Bruce gave an exasperated sigh. "Clark."

"The horse appreciation day didn't go very well..." Clark stared off into the distance, eyes glassy and contemplative, resembling an old man recounting his days in the army. "My horse smashed a lot of chairs that day, not to mention balls..."

"Clark! If you don't give me a satisfactory answer within 5 seconds, I'm not having sex with you for at least a month!"

"Oh, come on, you wouldn't last that long either..." Clark snorted, but immediately put his hands up in surrender when Bruce started ticking off his fingers. "Alright, alright! I planned this whole thing from the start! Satisfied?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "From when, specifically?"

"Well... from inviting you to fight Lex's henchmen with me."

"Alright." Bruce nodded slowly, "So there wasn't any kryptonite at the scene to start with, correct?"

"Correct."

"And Lex Luthor is not involved in any of this?"

"Yep."

"Then who were the goons?"

"The batkids." Clark offered, then added, under Bruce's dark stare, "Some of the league members..." The stare darkened even further. "Ok, ok, I give up. The entire league was involved."

Bruce huffed. "You're unbelievable."

"I love you too."

"I still can't believe you-no, all of you managed to pull this off."

"I thought you would have noticed, _World's greatest detective._ " Clark smirked.

"But why?" Bruce demanded. All this better had a good explanation for him to break his nose in front of everyone he knew.

"Ah, you're finally asking the right questions." Clark still has that insufferable grin on his face. "Look at the calendar."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Did you hide a clue behind it?"

"Maybe." Clark was clearly enjoying himself.

"Then what? Do the dates on the calendar form a code?"

A patient sigh. "Don't overcomplicate it, go see it for yourself, _detective_."

Bruce shot a glare, but ultimately decided to go study the calendar for himself. He stared at for a few seconds, then turned back to Clark, arms crossed.

"I fail to see the connection."

Clark couldn't help but shout. "You-are you serious?"

"There's nothing wrong with this calendar." Bruce was impatient, but more irked that he couldn't find out what Clark's devilish plan was.

"Look again." Clark tried, inching closer so that he was standing behind Bruce. "If you can figure Riddler's plans out, you can definitely solve this."

Bruce glowered at the paper, eyes narrowing in suspicion. His eyes darted from the bolded APRIL down to the bat decorations at the bottom, then skimmed through all the dates in ascending order then backwards, trying to squeeze in every code he could ever think of with the corresponding days, but nothing made sense.

"I give up." Bruce finally said, throwing up his hands. "Whatever your stupid plan is, I can't figure it out."

"Aww, don't be such a downer, Bruce. Give it another try?" Clark said sweetly, hugging him from behind, fully enjoying his frustration.

"You don't get to enjoy this." Bruce gritted, "Now tell me."

"You really don't want another try?"

"No, now tell me why."

From the distance, Clark heard Alfred gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Alright," Clark grinned, "But only because Alfred seems to be dying from second-hand embarrassment." He guided Bruce's hand to the calendar. "What's this?"

"What are you doing Clark, I'm not a kid, I know what month it is. It's April."

"And what's this?" Clark moved their hands down.

"It's today's date."

"And...?"

"1st of April. What does it have to do with all this?" Bruce demanded, unimpressed. "Can you be more direct?"

Just a minute ago, Clark was trying very hard not to burst into laughter. Now, he's trying not to explode. "Ok, what happens on the 1st of April?" He asked slowly, making sure to stretch out every syllable.

"You pranked me." Bruce huffed.

"Because...?"

"You were supposed to fill me in on that."

"Oh my god." Clark rubbed his face. "You cannot be serious."

"Can you hurry up? This is getting annoying." Bruce tapped his feet impatiently.

"Fine, but don't punch me afterwards." Clark took a deep breath. This was going to end badly either way. "It's April fools."

"April f..." And here, is the closest you'll ever get to see a human being shutting down. Bruce went very still, every bone in his body locking into place with a snap. His eyes are still trained on the calendar, breath held like a hovering butterfly, and his entire being completely motionless except for his brain, which was going at faster than the speed of light.

Bruce gave no audible response, but the slight eye twitch was enough.

"Alright, I'll have to amend my plea from don't punch me to don't kill me." Clark half-joked, then waved a hand in front of Bruce. "You alright there? I know this is a stupid prank, but you falling wasn't part of the plan actually." He scratched his head awkwardly. "We forgot about it completely when you face-planted into the ground, so we kind of ditched it. I guess we aren't very good at sticking to instructions, uh..."

Bruce was still a human statue. "Ok, this is pretty scary now, Bruce. I-" He broke off into a yelp as Bruce suddenly spun around and tackled him to the ground, which ended up with Bruce straddling him, a vengeful grin on his face.

He leant in close. "April fools, you big blue boob."

"I don't think that's how you prank..." Clark licked his lips, "not that I'm complaining."

"..." Bruce contemplated for a moment, then suddenly remembered. "When we were at the warehouse... they all saw it, didn't they?"

"Oh yeah, everyone definitely saw how you froze like a deer in headlights after seeing me, then crashed face-first onto the floor." Clark grinned. "I think Hal recorded it with his ring."

"I hate all of you." Bruce muttered.

"Aw, don't be like that. You know we love you." Clark planted a loud kiss on Bruce's forehead, earning an indignant glare from the other man.

* * *

A few cities away, Hal yawned noisily. It was an eventful day, being the clown of almost every social group he's in requires vigorous work to maintain his reputation, especially on April fools. One prank went exceptionally well, albeit not the way he intended it to.

With a scheming grin, he downloaded the video of Batman's prank on his ring into his laptop. Oh, this is so going into the League archive files.


End file.
